Tick Tock
by CaffeineChic
Summary: Between Tick and Tock lay all the answers


Title: Tick Tock  
  
Disclaimer: There isn't a part of my body that I wouldn't sell for these characters to be mine. But since there isn't a big market for dismembered arms I guess they're still Craig and Steve's. Dang.  
  
Note: This kinda got thrashed out last night, I'm writing a lot of small stuff at the moment and playing around with different ideas. The inner workings of Miss Parker's mind fascinate me so thats the theme I'm running with for a while.  
  
Lemme know if it sucks  
  
-CrazyA  
  
******************************************************  
  
The only sound was the clock.  
  
Tick. Tock.  
  
Tick. Tock.  
  
Run.  
  
Chase.  
  
The ice clinked in the glass.   
  
Clink. Clink.  
  
Tick. Tock.  
  
She downed the end of the vodka. There was more in the bottle. She didn't drink it.   
  
Run. Chase.   
  
She could tell herself a thousand things, that her life was her's, that it was just a job, that he meant nothing to her. Lies. All of them. Centre lies living in her head, but never quite completing the journey to her heart. She was as much the Centre's prisoner as he was. The only difference lied in which side of its walls they were on. He'd known that before she did. He'd understood it before she even knew it was there to be questioned. She couldn't deny it now, what would be the point?   
  
It had seemed oddly simplistic in the beginning. Jarod's freedom for her's. If she brought him in, then she could break from the Centre. It was never suppossed to be a chase that lasted for years. It was never suppossed to be complicated. It was inexplicably so now. She knew that even if she did bring him in that she'd never be free. Raines would never let her walk away.   
  
Tick. Tock.  
  
Run. Chase.  
  
Tick. Tock.  
  
Would it last forever? Would they continue is *this* life until life no longer continued? The idea of it made her breath catch in a barely successful attempt not to sob. Her fingertips rested on eyes that had dropped closed against the vision of such a future. Silent tears crept forth from beneath her lids.   
  
The man she'd thought of as her father was dead. The twisted irony of having spent her entire life aching for his approval, some sign of his love, being manouvered into endentured servitude in a place that hell had claimed as its own, only to find that it had all been for nothing.   
  
Tick. Tock.  
  
He'd said that they both deserved more. He'd wanted more with her. After everything. After, everything. She'd hunted him, chased and threatened, cursed him down and after it all: He wanted her, a chance for both of them, he'd taken her hand. If he'd been anyone else she'd have thought he was just after some sick thrill. But he wasn't. And she'd still snatched her hand away.   
  
Tick. Tock.  
  
Her turning point. She'd had him to turn to. She'd looked away. The sob escaped the confines of her throat. She was a fool. A fool to think that all those years of trying would ever have been enough to please her "father" and a fool for not realising that she'd never needed to try with Jarod. She knew that bringing him in would be his death. It would be her's too. She couldn't deny that now either. She didn't want him back in the Centre. The very idea of it chilled her. She'd told herself for so long that it was only because he could help her find the secrets of her past. She didn't have that excuse anymore.   
  
Tick. Run. Tock. Chase  
  
Tick. Him. Tock. Her.  
  
Time had slowed.  
  
Tick.........Tock.  
  
Tick...............Tock.  
  
And she knew, she knew then with full certainty and confidence, in the time that pulsed between a single tick and tock, that she would not turn away again. She would not let them rule her life anymore. The Centre had already taken too much from her already. She would not, could not live the rest of her life like this. She wanted it to be more then this waking nightmare. She wanted more then the sick game that lay ahead with Lyle.   
  
She wanted more with *him*.   
  
The impact of such an admission, its force and power, stunned her.   
  
Her face was stained with tears and makeup. Her hand still held an empty glass. The clock was still the only sound.   
  
Tick..................Tock.  
  
Run. Chase.  
  
Him. Her.  
  
She would chase him. Not for the Centre. Not for Raines. Not for her "father". But for her. For him. For them.   
  
She would reach for *his* hand.  
  
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.  
  
Time resumed its pace.   
  
Everything had changed.   
  
She was ready. 


End file.
